by Peter David
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into the wall. K'hanq hung there for a moment as if defying gravity, and then tumbled to the floor.
Gowron turned his head slightly so that the lens mounted on the back of his collar could properly pick up K'hanq's unmov-ing body.
"I know you see, K'hanq," said Gowron as if he were still alive. "But some of us see . . . more than others."
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CHAPTER
26
Whe
hen Lwaxana opened her eyes, Deanna was waiting for her.
"Ohhhh, Little One," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "Am I dreaming?"
"No."
"Would you tell me if I were?"
"Yes," Deanna assured her with a laugh.
"He came for you? He did?"
"Yes. Yes, he did. He said you helped. Thank you."
Lwaxana shrugged as she settled back more comfortably into the hospital bed. "All I did was build upon what you already taught him . . . and what you had together. The rest was entirely the two of you." Then she remembered and her eyes filled with tears. "Mr. Homn ... he ... is he ..."
"He's fine, Mother. At least, he's going to be fine. I had no idea . . . there are mountains that are more vulnerable than he is. The doctors say he'll be up and around and mute in no time."
"That's good to hear. And me ... ?"
"You're mending. Should be out of here about the same time as Mr. Homn, actually."
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"Oh, thank God. I wouldn't want to have to worry about cooking."
"I'll take care of it, Mother. I'll take care of both of you. The captain has arranged for my staying here awhile."
"Ah, Jean-Luc. I knew I could count on him." Then she said, "Mr. Worf fought like a madman to protect you, didn't he."
"He did, yes."
She sighed. "I... suppose I could be wrong about him. Perhaps ... well.. . it's miraculous, really. You have two men who love you. I think I'm rather jealous, when one gets down to it. How are you going to choose, Little One? Things can't stay as they are, they-"
"Mother.. ." She patted Lwaxana's hand. "Don't worry about it. The biggest problem people have is that they choke-hold life and don't let it happen. Everything will sort itself out if we just let it."
"I taught you that, didn't I. Many years ago."
"Yes, Mother."
Lwaxana closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh. "I'm a very wise woman."
"Yes, Mother."
When Deanna went to the inn, Worf was waiting for her.
She looked around. Everything of his was already packed. Her things were not. Worf was sitting very still in the middle of the room. At first he didn't even seem to notice her when she came in. She looked at him in curiosity and said, "Worf?"
"I was thinking about. . . when Admiral Riker came back from the future ... to save you."
"Why were you thinking about that?"
For the first time there actually seemed to be a touch of resigned admiration in Worf s voice. "He reordered
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the universe for you. That was how much he loved you. And yet I... could not find it in myself to save you from Sela____"
"Because of your honor. You did what was right for you."
"Alexander has . . . requested some time away from me. He desires to return to his grandparents. I have . . . given him permission to do so. He has already left. I would have thought he would understand, that I had taught him well. Obviously I did not. Is that the pupil's fault... or the teacher's?"
At first Deanna didn't believe it. Naturally Worf had no reason to lie, but nonetheless it was hard for her to grasp. But it was true; all of Alexander's things were gone. She just hadn't noticed it before.
"I... have been concerned that you do not love me as you do ... Will Riker," Worf said slowly. "I realize now that my priorities have been . . . misplaced. My concern should have been .. . that I do not love you as he does. You deserve that measure of love, Deanna. And I deserve . .."
"What? What? Nothing, Worf? Is that what you're going to say?" She took one of rough hands in hers. "You're tearing yourself up over this. It's not right."
"No ... it is not. Nor can I hope to find peace in my current frame of mind. For you see ... despite all of it... I still believe that I did the right thing and Riker the wrong. And yet I realize that what he did was right.. . but I cannot understand why. I must learn, Deanna. I cannot be him, nor should I want to be ... but in a way I do ... but it conflicts with what I have been taught."
"So ... so what are you going to do?"
"Learn other things."
"You can learn them with me, Worf. We can learn together."
He looked at her bleakly. "I am doing this ... for you,
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Deanna. It-we-will never work. Never. Deanna . . . look at me. I am nothing like you. Look . . . your eyes are tearing up. Mine are dry. They are always dry. I will never, truly, make you happy, nor you me. You and Riker belong together. The thought that you and I can never have that measure of love . . . that I am incapable of giving it to you . . . angers me. I must deal with this anger . .. with that which I lack . .. with all of it. I will be returning to Qo'noS shortly, to serve in whatever capacity Gowron needs me. But I will ask him to release me to the clerics of Boreth. I suspect he will do so, as in many ways it serves both our purposes. There I will study . . . and learn . . . and, very likely, stay."
"Stay." She felt infinitely sad. "And that is how you're going to deal with difficulty loving, Worf? By running away from it?"
And Worf stared at her in a way that she had never seen before. The Klingon warrior, who had fought battle after battle .. . who had thrown himself into all manner of physical punishment. . . who had taken pleasure in flaunting just how much pain he could take . . . said four words she never thought she would hear him say:
"It. . . hurts ... too much."
It was as if he had spent every last bit of energy getting out that sentence. And then, everything that could possibly be said having been said, he gathered up his belongings and left the room. Deanna sat there, alone, staring at the emptiness, feeling as if all the energy in the room had left with him.
When Deanna went to the Troi mansion, Will Riker was waiting for her.
A cleaning crew had already been through and put much of the house back in order. The walls had been rebuilt and replastered. Most of the objets d'art and such had not been replaced, since that was awaiting Lwaxana's personal touch.
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Indeed, the only thing that seemed to have survived, miraculously, was a vase over in the corner. Riker had placed the vase on a table and was fiddling with it when she walked in. He smiled at her.
"Will! What are you doing here?" Then she brought herself up short, folded her arms and said, "Two pair."
"Four of a kind," Riker replied immediately.
She relaxed slightly. It was the new signal they had developed for each other, just on the off chance that there was the slightest reason to suspect that Thomas Riker had unexpectedly shown up. "So ... so what are you doing here?"
"Well, I did bring a few things with me when I came by here the first time. I came planetside to get them .. . which I have." He indicated a satchel near him. "And I... wanted to find out how Lwaxana is. And Mr. Homn."
"She's fine. They're both going to be fine. What about Starfleet? Are you in trouble for ... ?"
"Well, I'm hardly on Jellico's top ten list, but the fact that we helped to capture a number of known Romulan terrorists and busted up a conspiracy to commit genocide on the Klingons certainly weighed heavily enough in our favor that Starfleet is willing to overlook the little matter of my being AWOL."
"That's certainly a relief."
He took a deep breath and said, "Deanna.. . I've been doing a lot of thinking . . . about us."
"Really. Well... so have I."
"And I..."
"And I..."
They laughed, both having spoken at the same time. "Can I go first?
" asked Will.
"Of course."
"Deanna ... I should never have tried to come between you and Worf."
Her face fell. "What?"
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"It was ... it was wrong of me. Perhaps one of the most wrong things I've ever done. I had no right. Worf was correct when he said I had my chance. I did. I was angry at him for taking you away, and I had no reason to be because I let you get away. You and Worf should be with each other, and ... I know that 'I'm sorry' doesn't begin to cover it. But. . . I'm sorry. And that's it, that's what I came here to say."
"Worf has gone off to a monastery."
He stared at her. "What?"
"He broke off the engagement. We're not getting married. He says"-she folded her arms-"that he can never love me to the depth and degree that you do."
"He said that?"
She nodded.
"I... see."
" 'I see'? Will," and Deanna almost had to laugh, "you went through heaven and hell to find me ... even my own ex-fiance says we're meant to be together, and the most you can muster is 'I see'?"
"I mean, I don't know how to react."
"Well. . . you could take me in your arms. You could hold me, kiss me, tell me you love me. Those are acceptable approaches. That's what you came here to do, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but. . ." He started to pace the room, looking more and more uncomfortable. "But it's not... it wouldn't be right somehow."
She looked at him as if he'd grown a third eye. "Wouldn't be 'right'?"
"Deanna . . . let's say that I say all that to you. And you tell me you love me, too. That you want the two of us to be together forever."
"I don't know if I would say that, but would that be so terrible if I did?"
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"Well... yes ..."
"Yes?" Deanna felt as if someone had just knocked her world forty-five degrees to starboard.
"Look at it from my point of view. . . ."
"I'm trying!"
"If I said and did all the things that I'd been thinking of doing . .. and you told me you loved me and so on ... how would I know it's genuine? Worf just dumped you."
"I wouldn't say 'dumped'. . ."
"All right, he called off the engagement. He broke it off. That. . . that must be shattering to you. You're probably still in shock, still trying to deal with it."
"I'm dealing with it fine, Will. It's you I'm getting impatient with."
"But if I attempt to put together a relationship with you now, I won't really know if it's what you genuinely want... or whether you're just on the rebound from Worf and looking for any emotional port in a storm. It would be disrespectful to the relationship you just had with Worf. You're one big walking exposed nerve. . . ."
"I'm not an exposed anything!" Deanna said. "What I am is a woman who just had a fiance step aside on behalf of a man who is now saying that he doesn't want me out of respect to the man who stepped aside for him! I'm starting to feel like a leper!"
"It's not like that, Deanna," and he took her in his arms, holding her tight and rocking her back and forth. She found herself melting into the warmth of him and moving with the swaying. "I... do love you. I do. You know that."
"And I love you, Will."
"I just think we should give it time."
She stopped rocking and took a step back to look up at him. "Time," she said, her voice flat.
"Yes, time. That's all. And during that time we'll be working toward a-"
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"Time!?"
"Yes. Time until it feels right. .."
And she stalked him. Riker backed up apprehensively. "Deanna. .."
"You know what? The only time you seem to want me ... is when you can't have me! But when I'm available, suddenly you run in the opposite direction!"
"That's not true," Riker protested, running in the opposite direction. He snagged his satchel and said, "I think what we should do is discuss this when you're less emotionally worked up. This is for your own good. . .."
"I am sick of people doing things for my own good, and I can assure you, you have not even begun to see me get worked up."
"Wait... I know." He held up a cautioning figure and put on his most charming smile. "I know . .. what you like to hear." He cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and, sounding more romantic than he ever had, started to recite. ..
"I hold you close to me.
Feel the breath of you, and the wonder of you
And remember a time
Without you
But only as one would remember
a bleak and distant whoa!!!"
The last word was the result of Riker seeing that Deanna had suddenly grabbed up the vase that he had so carefully placed on the table. She swung it in a fast underhand arc and let fly. Riker barely dodged as the vase shattered against the wall next to him.
"I read you poetry and you throw breakable objects at me in response?" he asked in astonishment. "How could you-?"
"It felt right!" bellowed Deanna.
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"I'll... I'll see you back on the Enterprise ... okay . .. ?"
"Not if I see you first!"
Deanna flopped down onto the couch as she listened to Riker's hastily retreating footsteps. She shook her head and sighed.
"Either I'm going to marry him ... or kill him," she said after a time. And then she realized that the two weren't necessarily mutually exclusive.
It made her feel a little better.
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NOW
Wo
rorf awoke with a start.. . and looked for Jadzia.
She wasn't there. Her scent remained in the chair, but she was gone. It took a moment for that fact to sink in, and when it did, he felt more empty than ever.
Nothing. It had all been for nothing.
He rummaged around their ...
.. . his .. .
. .. quarters a bit more .. . and then he found a picture. A picture of the two of them from their wedding day. Worf and Jadzia, smiling toward the camera. Happy. So happy.
For nothing.
It had made no difference at all.
He ran his fingers across her portrait...
And the portrait was wet.
He didn't realize the origin at first. .. and then he did. It was liquid, coming from his own eyes, dripping onto the picture.
And his mind suddenly went to the world of Soukara. The world where they were to meet the Cardassian informer, Lasaran ... and Jadzia had become injured. Had he left her, had he completed the mission ... she would have died, there
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on Soukara. Instead he had come back for her, abandoned the mission, tossed aside everything that he had ever learned about duty...
... for her.
... for Jadzia.
Because of what he had felt for her. Feelings that were beyond anything, he realized, that he had ever felt for Deanna.
More tears fell from his eyes and he moved the picture so it wouldn't become wet.
He was still Klingon. Honor was as important to him as ever. That had never lessened in him .. . and yet...
... and yet...
... his first duty had been to her. To them. To his wife, to his beloved.
And he knew, beyond any question, perhaps with greater clarity than he had ever known before, that he would have done anything for her. That had been the plan, that they were to be together, forever and ever. Nothing could ever separate them. But she had gone away, and he had not expected it. And his first impulse had been to close off everything, to retreat once more, to look back on their life together and say it had made no difference. No difference . . .
... but he was wrong.
It had made a difference. For he felt things now, depth of emotion, passion, and the ability to covet a loving relationship beyond anything that he would once have thought possible. The death of their union did not end that. Those feelings, once tapped, could not be denied. He could try, of course. He could try and push it away . ..
<
br /> ... but that would be wrong. Wrong for the legacy that she had left him, wrong for the man that he had always wanted to be and-thanks to her-now was.
He held the picture tight to him and allowed the tears to cascade down his cheeks. He did not sob out loud; that would have been too much. Instead the tears flowed in eerie silence, but it didn't matter.
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It hurt . . . but he didn't mind. It was a good hurt, the kind that one can grow from and learn from if one chooses to.
If he loved again, it could never be as it was with her. Never.
For she had been his first.
The first to get into his heart and soul. He realized that now. The first that he would sacrifice anything for. He would have died for her. Now he had to live for her.
And love with another . .. would be different necessarily better or worse. Even though he had once said it to Alexander, only now did he truly understand. It was just different, and should be celebrated as such. And it would never diminish what they had. He would keep it close to his heart, tucked away, and even as he made his way through life, that first love would still always be there. Nothing could end that love . .. even the end of the lover herself.
For he would always have in his head that first time they saw each other .. . the first time they held hands, the first time they kissed, the first time that their bodies pressed against each other, flesh to flesh, and they joined in a perfect union that neither time, nor distance, nor even death itself could ever take away.
He could move on without her, but in a way, she would always be with him. A fragrant flower, gone, yet he still had the sense of her within him.
And it would not be for nothing as long as he remembered that.
He kissed the picture gently, and she smiled back at him. And a word came to him through the years ... a word that belonged to neither his race, nor hers . . . and yet, somehow, it was a part of the heart and soul of all races.
He pressed the picture against his chest, and in a voice that was deep and resonant and filled with hope for the future, he said ...
"Good journey . . . Imzadi. .."
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